

MR OTIS' ORATION 





Class. 
Book. 









x/^ 



/'^ 



( 



ORATION 



DELIVERED BEFORE 



THE "YOUNG MEN OF BOSTON," 



FOURTH OF JULY, 



M DCCC XXXI. 



B V WILLIAM F . OTIS 




B O S T ON : 



\ A ' 



CARTER, II E N D E E AND B A B C O C K 



M DCCC XXXI. 









Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1831, 

ByCARTF.R, Hendee and Babcock, 

ill the Clerk"s olRcc of" the District Court of Massachusetts. 



BOSTON CLASSIC PRESS, 
I . R . BUTTS. 



Tuesday, July 5, 1C31. 
Dear Sin, — At a iiicctinf;- of the Coininittcc of Arriint^ciiicnts 
of (he " Young; men of Boston," for the celebration of the Fourth of July, it 
was " Voted, That the thanks of this committee be presented to Wm. F. 
Otis, Esq., for his able and interesting; Oration delivered upon that occasion; 
and that he be requested to furnish a copy for the press." 

It is with much pleasure that we have the honor to communicate the 
above vote, and solicit your compliance with the request of the general com- 
mittee. 

In whose behalf we are 

Your obedient servants, 

David Kimball, ) 

ChAS. H. Locke, > Sub-CnmmiUee. 

Newell A. Thompsox, j 

To Wm. F. Otis, Esq. 



Wednesday, July, C 1831. 
Gentlemen, — I received your very polite and gratifying note 
of yesterday evening, requesting for the press a copy of the Oration deliv- 
ered by me on the Fourth of July. 

That note was obligingly hcnded to mc in person by one of your commit- 
tee, and I immediately complied with his request in giving him the copy, as 
spoken, in order to prevent any delay in its publication. 

I have since thouglit that justice to the Committee of Arrangements and 
the " Young men of Boston," who received my Address with such urbanity 
and attention, requires me to accompany its publication with a notice that the 
sentiments contained in it are those of an individual only, who would be the 
last to obtrude them upon any dissentient ; but who, in the absence of all pre- 
vious concert, and without the least intimation of any prevailing opinion, felt 
it his duty to address the audience in a spirit of candor, if possible, com- 
mensurate with their generosity, and relying upon their liberality, uttered 
his free and undisguised impressions, in the full confidence that no one, but 
himself, could be implicated in their character. 

Yours, very truly, Sec. 

WiLLiAisi F. Otis. 



To Uavid Kimball, ) 

^ II T „ C Sub- Committee of 
Chas. H. Locke, ^ ^ ■* 

Newell A. Thompson? 



.Irramremcnts. 



\ 



ORATION. 



MY COM? A N IONS A N U FRIENDS,— 

Before wc select a theme it will be well 
for each one to reflect and question the utility of this 
assembhige. What object? what advantage? 

This is our Jubilee. We throw off all care, and 
uncover the heart for the refreshing showers of joy. 

We have speeches every day. Orations are the 
most common things with us. And yet, instead of 
retiring under grateful shade, or responding the grand 
chorus of hilarity, we have busily crowded this sober 
house. And why? Is it for gratitude? We should 
seek our solitary closets ; or these walls upon a yet 
holier day. Is it for exultation? Have we set up 
one of our number as a mirror to reflect our own 
perfections, or as a medium through which to behold 
the character of our ancestors boastfully exaggerated ? 
No. Exultation is abroad, waving upon every hill, 
resounding through every valley. While we have 
set apart an hour to assemble as members of this 
vast confederacy, and undergo a national self-exami- 
nation. 



Let us then approach our country. Not awe- 
struck, but familiarly, recollecting that it is our 
country, and that we are the people thereof. 

If, after all the precious blood that has been shed 
for our liberty, we were so lukewarm as to be con- 
tent Avith a mere comparative superiority over the 
despotisms and aristocracies around us, we might, 
perhaps, exult. If we reasoned with the short- 
sighted policy of Europeans, — if we could hush the 
voice of poverty, bribe the discontented, disarm re- 
sistance the most patriotic, stifle opposition the most 
pure, and purchase the friends of the people with 
their own perverted gold, we might then exult as 
other nations do. If the increase, opulence, and 
prosperity of our country were all that we could 
wish, we might now exult as we have done. 

But when we reflect that the essential, the pecu- 
liar principle of this happy country, the principle 
that all power resides in the people, emanates from 
the peoj)le, and is responsible to the people; that 
this |)rinciple, when at the very acme of its triumph, 
at the full tide of its glory, after its long, its pros- 
perous, its unparalleled career, should be confronted, 
doubted, and denied even here, where we have ocu- 
lar ])roof and continual demonstration of its benefit 
and efficacy, it m^eds no augury to ])ronounce an 
hour, of even this day, inauspicious for mere ex- 
ultation. 

I pass over the momentous manifestations of that 
principle v\ hich now agitate all Europe, and chafe 
the Asiatic shores. I overlook Paris, WarsaA\ , and 



Athens. I behold this country alone, and ask how 
that great principle flourishes here? And I fear my 
answer must be, that it lacks husbandry. 

We have felt too secure. The raptures of success, 
in our struggle for independence with the gigantic 
pow^r of Great Britain, and our veneration for the 
character of the statesmen and w arriors, under whose 
guidance our liberty was maintained, have charmed 
us into an unwary leisure and pernicious joy; and 
while, like lords of the princely domain, we have 
walked the stately halls which their arms obtained 
for us, have gloried in armorials and trophies, which 
their valor won, have caroused with our followers, 
cjuafling the bowl to their memory, and joined with 
our minstrels in quiring their praise, the wily foe has 
been rallying the fragments of his forces, and occu- 
pies the mountains, watching to destroy us. 

It is time now, therefore, to inquire into our 
resources, and to repair our condition to meet occur- 
rences which admit of neither escape nor delay. 

The cause of liberty is by no means sure. The 
year eighteen hundred and thirty does not exhibit 
a great and general victory, but a battle yet raging, 
and now as doubtful in result, as it will be decisive 
in its consequences. It is not the European alone, 
who should stand by as the anxious spectator of the 
conflict, and the relative of those engaged ; we, too, 
are a party to the strife ; our fields may next feel 
their ravages, our firesides next perish under their 
desolating revenge. 

In this country, we, have done with war ; we have 
established our independence, and the scenes which 



8 

arc now displayed in Poland, once reddened the fair 
landscape which we enjoy. We look hack to the 
evils which now menace them; we recollect the 
tyranny which they now experience ; and when we 
catch the joyful news of their hard-earned fame, — 
when Me hear how boldly they advance, how bravely 
they repel, liow contentedly they faint and die, we 
dream that we are reading our own history ; we hear 
them re-echo our own groans, our o^v n imprecations, 
and, thank heaven! our own shouts for success! 

But we will not dwell upon these scenes. We 
wish to ascertain the fruits and consequences of 
our independence. We have sheathed the sword, 
but have we completed our revolution? have we 
amplified Liberty, and perfected our National Sys- 
tem ? have we done away with all useless form ? 
have we broken down the walls of monopoly, and 
let loose the crowd of emulation to rush in and occupy 
the choice places ? Or do some marks of servitude 
and vassalage yet remain ? We are no longer slaves, 
but do we wcnr no badges of our old masters? Is 
not lh(Mr livery yet discernible in the garments of 
which we are so proud ? Are we not even at this 
day, bound with the forms and prejudices which we 
derived from them ? Have we not a full share of 
iiiitioual absurdities, political nuisances, and public 
abominations? 

It is so: and why? Because liberty lies idle. 
We hav(^ it — l)ut we hoard it. Liberty alone, is by 
no means \\\v,\t we have been accustomed to esteem 
it. Liberty is the means of National Perfection. 
We have worshipped it as tlu; end. 



Liberty is a plant of tenacious root, of inextinguish- 
able vitality. But whether it shall shoot forth with 
vigor and overshadow the parched territory beneath, 
or whether it shall barely exist in a tame and unprofit- 
able vegetation, depends upon the evening care and 
morning toil of the husbandman. 

We have trusted too much to the vigor of this 
plant. We have left it too solely to its natural 
growth. True, we have venerated it; we have 
assembled around it ; its buds, as emblems, have 
bloomed in our breasts ; its foliage has shaded our 
sportive dances, sheltered our councils, and solem- 
nized our prayers ; but we have forgotten to culti- 
vate it ; and l)y that neglect, the purposes of our 
revolution, and the effects of our independence re- 
main incomplete, and languish with a sickly and 
scarcely perceptible existence. 

We have felt a delicacy in carrying out our sys- 
tem, which we should no longer feel. Time has 
proved its superiority. Why then should we check 
its operation, or doubt its durability? If we once 
give it fidl force, it \^ ill hurl from itself the particles 
which impede it, and crush down every obstacle in 
its course. 

I do not mean to deny that the doctrine of the 
equal rifjhts of man, and the supreme power of the 
people has made admirable progress ; that we are 
better acquainted with the natiue of our republic ; 
and, as a whole people, that we arc more confirmed 
in our confidence in a free government. But it 
must, at the same time, be acknowledged, that a few 
o 



10 

unfortunate instances of popular preference, the un- 
expected exercise of discretionary power, and the 
alarming discoveries of profligacy and intrigue, where 
we had a right to expect purity and honor, have in- 
fected with douht and consternation some of the 
firmest advocates of our principles. 

The discontented even here are a party; even 
here, there is an outcry against existing abuse ; here 
odious measures continue unredressed, and worthy 
families are beggared by proscription. Even here, 
the press unfurls her ever welcome banner, and 
gathers around her the hosts of opposition. The 
people are infallible ! shout the majority. Yet be- 
hold how the people are deceived. The people are 
wise! yet they are circumvented. Vigilant! yet 
traduced. Consistent ! yet capricious. Just and 
gratefid! yet they have punished their innocent 
friends, and have forgotten the long tried affection 
of their faithful servants. 

Were such the purposes of our Revolution ? The 
effect of Independence ? The offspring of Liberty ? 
If so, wherein is the great merit of our system, and 
why should we exult ? 

Unparalleled as it is, ours is, as yet, an imperfect 
system. Its vast proportions were admirably calcula- 
ted for symmetry and strength ; its materials are 
hewn from the indestructible quarries of the native 
earth ; our ancestors laid its ponderous foundations 
deep on the solid rock, and raised its stupendous col- 
umns fnr above the level of all surrounding edifices. 
Their Herculean efforts served to demonstrate the 



11 

possibility of the task ; they completed enough to 
insure the perfection of the desiijn, when old age 
overtook them, and they died, leaving it for us to 
finish. Where they left it, there it remains ; idly 
waiting for some more patriotic generation to raise 
it to its destined height, while haply the moss and 
ivy leaf will stand for its inscriptions, and time, the 
destroyer, will outstrip the builder's hand. 

We should be slow to attribute the imperfections 
which deform our system, to the system itself. 
There is no fault in the design ; no defect in the 
construction ; the site is well chosen ; the materials 
at hand, and all that is requisite to insure to our 
country a continual career of prosperity, an unfading 
vigor, an ever renovating youth, is a determination 
to eradicate the obstructions in the road, to tear down 
the antiquated scaffoldings, to abandon the miserable 
tools and cumbrous machinery, with which it has 
been surrounded, and with the strong arm of the 
people, to go to work. 

This determination has long since been planted, 
and is now ripening into birtli, and if the young men 
of the present day will patronise its growth, they 
may soon reap the fruits of National Perfection. 

The first obstacle which presents itself to this de- 
termination, is a veneration for antiquity and its es- 
tablished customs. This is one of the badges of our 
ancient vassalage ; and it is difficult to conceive, 
how a principle retarding our celerity and so inco- 
herent with the entire spirit and savor of our gov- 
ernment, can exist. 



12 

We profess, that all our institutions are the most 
beneficial for the people. If they are so, why is not 
that fact enough to command our utmost veneration, 
and why should we look back into antiquity to over- 
whelm ourselves with any additional awe ? There 
is nothing more useless than this sentiment. It adds 
no purity to real merit ; its indulgence may give 
sanction to acknowledged abuse ; it is allied to an 
ignorant superstition ; it is a grovelling homage, ex- 
torted from imbecility to support usurped power ; it 
is the common prop of every tottering throne ; it has 
been urged and enforced as the silencing condemna- 
tion to many a patriotic appeal ; it has scaled the 
lips and fate of the poor ; has consigned the laboring 
classes to inferiority ; has transmitted, unsubdued 
through generations, the fatal virus of political cor- 
ruption ; and has granted to every monarch and no- 
bleman plenary indulgence to inflict at pleasure his 
feudal persecutions. 

It is this blind, tliis idolatrous veneration, that has 
raised up in this country an implied obligation, at war 
with our express duty. It has given precedent its 
power ; it has anointed the faults of our predeces- 
sors to be more holy than our rectitude ; it has for- 
bidden investigation, resisted inquiry, and defied the 
mediation of reason anil common sense. It discour- 
ages enterprise, checks discovery ; and pointing scorn- 
fully at each rising generation, bids them kiss the 
rod of its high authority. 

Why should Ave venerate an earthly custom ? 
Why, in this land of sunshine, where we can witness 



13 



the growth of every day, \vhere there is no cause 
for conceahnent, no profit in evasion, why should we 
resort to our imaginations for a conviction that our 
reason would declare ? Why should we erect altars 
to an unknown deity, when there is neither tempest, 
famine nor plague to excite our superstition. 

It is not only the established customs of antiquity, 
which lord it over our veneration ; the institutions, 
which we can trace to their origin and recognise as 
the work of our own hands, tliese also call upon 
us to fall down and worshi[) them. 

If any human institution were perfect, it would 
enforce its own duration. The sound sense of all 
mankind would uphold it. But if all our institu- 
tions are temporary, and must s(wner or later be sub- 
verted, it is the part of w isdom cither to provide sub- 
stitutes, or to constitute them of so ductile a mate- 
rial that after ages may shape them to their wants. 

John Locke and Thomas Jefferson carried this 
principle so far as to declare, that even the constitu- 
tion of a nation should contain a provision for its 
stated expiration. Then why should we wring our 
hands when we bid adieu to these mouldering cus- 
toms and criunbling institutions ? Why shouhl we 
cling to them as the home of our childhood, and shed 
tears in beholding them recede, when ^\c know that 
in winding down the broad stream of our country, 
we shall pass through many a happier clime and 
arrive at our inheritance in vales of Elysian fertility. 

Shall we, then, confiding in ancient customs and 
institutions, idly abandon our country to its destiny ? 



14 

and suffer it to stumble and blunder with us in 
its progress ? Or shall we go forward gallantly, as 
its pioneers ? explore its future dangers, hew for it 
a broad and smooth path ? anticij)ate its exigencies, 
and shape it to meet them Avith success. 

If we yet hesitate, let us look at Europe and be- 
hold how she has drilted down the tide of eighteen 
centuries ; ever changing, alternately receding or 
advancing, as she falls into the varying currents ; now 
threatened with instant destruction, and escaping 
perhaps by sheer awkw^ardness ; now on the very eve 
of refuge and prosperity, but plunging into the only 
strait encompassed with real danger ; now pausing 
in the jaws of ruin, to meditate upon some idle 
fancy ; now abandoning the path of her salvation, to 
gratify a vain revenge. It is revolting, it is sicken- 
ing to behold her. Her lofty frame, her noble mind, 
her admirable accomplishments, serve but to deepen 
her degradation, and we mourn more bitterly the 
hopelessness of her reform. 

To what eminence would she not have now attain- 
ed, had her youth looked forward to futurity, unblind- 
edby a superstitious veneration for established institu- 
tions : had they disregarded the watchwords "church 
and king," rejected the collars of nobility, spurned 
their golden coronets and jewelled stars, and aimed 
boldly at the good of the people and the ameliora- 
tion of the world ? 

As it is, she has missed all her glorious opportuni- 
ties ; she has suffered unnumbered changes, utter and 
entire revolutions ; has been overrun by almost all 



15 

ihe nations of the earth ; has wiped from her surface 
the vestiges of successive empires, and yet now pre- 
sents an aspect, hideous with the k^prosies of her 
Tiberian age, and reeks under the very symptoms, 
which provoked the mockery of the Goths. 

For three centuries after the birth of our Saviour, 
Rome, the mistress of Europe, exhibited at once the 
most ignominious depravity, the most brilliant lite- 
rary excellence, and the highest political grandeur. 
Nation after nation was successively reduced to her 
sway, and captive kings followed the triumphant 
chariots of her generals, through crowds of adoring 
people, and poured out the riches of their distant do- 
minions into her insatiable treasury. 

Christianity silently pervaded the corrupt multi- 
tude, whispered its grace into their obdurate souls, 
and after it had gradually increased, despite of oppo- 
sition, to a fearful strength, and burned in the breasts 
of its tens and hundreds of thousands, it attracted 
thou the re2;ard of royalty, was decked out and dress- 
ed iij) in all the trap])ings of the antecedent idolatry, 
and presented to the Emperor himself. Still it 
was Christianity, and was recognised as such. Why 
then did that not i)roduce a change in Europe ? 
Why did not that renovate the world ? The answer 
is plain ; Christianity, under Constantine himself, 
could not repress the veneration of the Roman peo- 
ple for their ancient institutions. The state religion 
was changed. Yet it was a state religion, and enact- 
ed ^^ ith im})ried provision to be subservient to the 
pleasures, games, orgies, ceremonials, vices, luxuries, 



16 

assassinations, and all other abuses and outrages, 
which had always been practised, allowed, and ap- 
proved, as the birtlirigiit and })riviiege of that people. 
Something more was requisite, — some plague, or 
flood, or I'amine ; something to quench utterly the 
old manners, and lay waste tlie whole surface of so- 
ciety for a new growth. 

AVe step down another century, and iind the bar- 
barous nations, at hrst, withholding their customary 
tribute ; next, from sliglit and local skirmishes with 
the Roman tax-gatherers, augmenting the revolt 
w^ith various fortune, accumulating strength, learning 
the art of success from continual defeat, then con- 
fronting and routing tlie veteran armies in the regu- 
lar field ; then redeeming their A\asted provinces, 
driving whole legions beyond tlu; Alpine barriers, 
and at last menacing the imperial gates, and exact- 
ing tribute from the proud city, which built her pal- 
aces with their s|)oils. 

Next comes Theodoric the Goth, — the great, the 
christian Theodoric. We hope that he, in the su- 
premity of power, in the glow of victory, in indig- 
nation at the rankness and corruption of Rome, and 
in contempt for tlieir idolatry, — \vc hope that he will 
revolutionize the country. But he spared the tem- 
ples, sanctioned the games, tolerated the manners, 
venerated the ancient institutions, — and his dynasty 
was overthrown. 

Italy, at the dawn of renovation, fell back into her 
original darkness, and became Rome once more. 
Again was she overrun ; again reclaimed, and at last 
submitted 1o the common destiny of Europe. 



17 

The p;reat change was tlieii complete. We saw 
the nortlicrn nations rise like an impetuous flood, 
ujitil the earth seemed to sink before them. The 
Alps were overcome. The mountain gates were 
choked, and the ovcrwhohning tide burst in wild tor- 
rents from their very heads. The waters rushed 
over grove and garden, hill and vale, city and coun- 
try ; immersed the whole face of creation, and left 
not an olive branch for the dove of peace. But no 
sooner were they equally diffused, than absorbed, 
they sunk into the soil over which they had pre- 
vailed, and their slime, uniting with all that was 
foul, engendered a more monstrous progeny of the 
ancient abuse ! Hence arose gigantic cathedrals, 
huge castles, fiefs, benefices, vassalage ; despotism 
in fractions of every denomination ; bloody-handed 
religion, girt with the sword, usurping the sceptre, 
bestowing the crown ! 

Hardly had the northern nations subsided into their 
new domain, ere the Moors threatened them with 
as dire a destruction as themselves had inflicted. 
The universal danger and the general interest, at- 
tracted all Europe to the church, as the only com- 
mon remnant and relation. Mahomet's ferocious 
Saracens had scoured Mediterranean Africa, leaped 
the dividing straits, overrun all Spain, and penetra- 
ted into the heart of France, before the Carlovignian 
hero humbled them in the bloodiest victory of the 
world. 

Religion ascribed this preservation to the Creator ; 
Init superstition, in blind gratitude, fawned upon the 
3 



18 

servants of the altar, and the glory was given to 
them. Leo and his iconoclasts were abhorred as 
impious innovators, and the old perversions triumphed 
and prevailed. 

We come now to an event, which has bound Eu- 
rope as a precedent for more than a thousand years, 
in fetters, which, though lately shattered, even yet 
manacle her fair limbs. 

The treacherous Pepin dethrones his master and 
places the stolen crown upon his own head ; and to 
establish his ill-gotten royalty, procures a confirma- 
tion from the Holy See, and presents himself to the 
people, sanctified with the same ceremonials, which 
the Emperors of old obtained from the Patriarchs of 
Constantinople. Thus we see the earthly church 
elevated to be the maker of kings, who, strength- 
ened with her authority, awe their subjects into an 
acknowledgment of the right divine. 

Here is an end to all hope from the new nations 
of Europe. Their independent soldiery, their vol- 
untary associations, their free assemblies, their meri- 
torious appointments bow before the idol of estab- 
lished institutions. Liberty is lost. The people are 
dumb. The world has receded, and the Emperors 
commence anew with Charlemagne. 

To follow history from this period, we must de- 
scend into caverns of utter darkness. The fresh in- 
cursions of Huns and Normans from abroad, and the 
feudal system at home, drove mankind to the final 
consolation, and surrendered the last stronghold of 
independence into the pale of the church. Europe, 



19 

at this period, seems to slumber in the darkness and 
insensibility of midnight ; the sun of intellect seems 
totally eclipsed, and we shudder as the last pale ray 
is shut into obscurity. 

But who can describe the glory of the succeeding 
dawn ? What magic pencil can trace the quaint de- 
ceptions, the beautiful illusions, the glaring changes 
which the first transition from darkness spread be- 
fore the enraptured sight ? 

The mists of ignorance, summoned from their un- 
seen abodes, rise and disclose vast regions, soon to 
be kindled into busy life ; the doubtful outlines, the 
confused boundaries, become boldened into a real 
and fixed landscape ; mountain and sky unblended, 
paint the serene horizon, and the retiring clouds, 
flung into grotesque and fitful drapery, gild the 
scenery, which they yet obscure. The voice of man, 
the hum of industry, the choir of civilization strike 
the ear, and the desolate prospect, as if by some 
fairy wand, wakes into animation and glories in the 
gorgeousness of living day. 

We behold the feudal castle perched on its airy 
height, its sparkling towers pinnacled with all the 
gaudy colors of heraldry, and around its gothic portal 
rallying the tenantry of unnumbered acres to follow 
their gallant young lord to the holy land. For him 
the king pours out his treasures ; for him the clergy 
ofier up their prayers. The fairest hands have em- 
broidered his banners : the holiest lips have conse- 
crated his sword ; and he goes to cope with Saladin, 
— Palestine, the goal — Love, his reward. 



20 



We hear the clamorous schools and vvranglins: 



b 



universities, vexed with litigious disputants ; riotin 
in subtleties, raging in syllogjsms, and inflicting 
mayhem, torture and murder in every degree, with 
all the relentless weapons of logic. 

Down from his lonely tower walks the nightworn 
astrologer, mourning the light that interdicts his 
further traflic in the stars. 

The monk, the alchymist, each at his shrine, seeks 
his consummate treasure ; and the Venetian mer- 
chant struts on the proud Rialto ; while Venice, 
fair Venice, risen from the bosom of the sea, gilds 
her palaces with the riches of the East, and covers 
the Adriatic with her marine. 

Europe is once more in motion, and again we hope 
for reform. 

The Crusades, ^^hich impoverished the noblemen, 
elevated merchants to a respectable rivalry, enrich- 
ed the cities by commerce, and relieved, by the ab- 
sence of their oppressors, the few vassals who 
remained upon the soil ; but as the power of the no- 
bles decreased, that of the monarchs augmented ; 
and the clergy stood ready to place their feet in 
either scale, whih; tlie people were regarded by all 
as the mere dust of the balance. 

At length, after a barren interval, the age of Ba- 
con, Descartes and Galileo commenced ; and human 
reason, after having been immersed in syllogisms 
four hundred years, began to walk abroad. Charles 
the Fifth now concentrated in himself the martial 
glory of Europe ; Henry the Eighth, in the qualms 



21 

of his tender conscience, established a church in 
Ens^land after his own heart, and with liimself at its 
head, in lieu of the Pope ; Elizabeth soon followed 
with her coquetish tyranny, and after a century of 
more or less persecutions for Religion's sake, we find 
Charles upon the English throne. 

His career is apart of our own history and familiar 
to us. He fell, and never was there a more deci- 
sive and entire revolution, followed by a more mel- 
ancholy relapse. A commonwealth was so perfect- 
ly established, that Cromwell dared not accept the 
crown, j)roffered him by our transatlantic brethren. 
But no sooner was this master-spirit departed, than 
the old rule of family succession was applied, in the 
elevation of Richard. This was a most unfortunate 
and irremediable error. When we heard of it in 
the West, we would not hearken to it. He wrote 
us ; but in vain. We had experienced the greatest 
commercial prosperity under Oliver. He removed 
our disqualifications, exempted us from the onerous 
exactions wrung from the other colonies, and was 
the only ruler of England that ever had an ade- 
quate idea of our importance. 

We were not ready, however, to submit to the 
son out of gratitude to the father. Such a submis- 
sion implied that Charles the Second was the lawful 
king; it sanctioned the principle of family succession; 
and that principle wanted only a constructive sanc- 
tion to awaken the old vimeration for the established 
institutions. What was our surprise, then, in the 
midst of our republican congratulations, suddenly to 



22 

find ourselves the lawful subjects of the merry mon- 
arch, whose own admirable qualifications were aided 
by the counsel and advice of a Rochester. This was a 
relapse, for which we never could forgive our Eastern 
fellow-countrymen. Resistance was vain. We were 
too weak even to demand conditions : and although, 
under different pretexts, we postponed the proclama- 
tion of the king for a year, his tyranny had already 
enforced the most humiliating recantations of our 
political heresy. 

We endured all things under the renewed monar- 
chy until sixteen hundred and eightyeight, when 
the spirit of Bostonians, oppressed beyond tolerance, 
made a desperate struggle, imprisoned the executive, 
attacked and carried the forts, took the king's ships, 
and overturned the government. 

This revolution, though abortive in effect, like 
those which preceded, should always be held in dear 
remembrance by every Bostonian as the early indi- 
cation of that spirit, which in seventeen hundred and 
sixtyfive exhibited the brightest page of our history. 

But why should we trace these examples farther? 
Why course down another age and apply our re- 
marks to events of daily familiarity ? The eighteenth 
century ends ; and throughout the whole we look in 
vain for anything like a regular train of improve- 
ment. There is a want of design and foresight in 
the transactions. The gains are all incidental. The 
advantages are fortuitous ; while the objects are 
generally criminal or vain, and the events unex- 
pected and unsatisfactory. 



23 

But we invariably find the usurper availing him- 
self of ancient customs and institutions to confirm 
his power ; and we discover no more potent and 
infallible charm to procure acquiescence and allay 
discontent. 

Had there been any previously concerted, well- 
organized plan for improvement in Europe, hardly 
have any ten years elapsed, without opening an op- 
portunity for its introduction. But with them, all 
projects of amelioration have been stigmatized as 
treasonable plots ; all popular schemes have been 
rejected as chimerical; while we have arisen under 
the foot of oppression, and without precedent or 
experience have attained an elevation hitherto re- 
garded by them as visionary and Utopian ! But so 
far short is our present condition of the height to 
which we aspire, that we are as yet in comparative 
infancy ; and so over-cautious are our respected 
guardians, so timid is the public sentiment, lest we 
should carry our principles too far, and depart too 
widely from the beaten track, that we hardly need 
expect to be stripped of our swaddling clothes until 
we have strength to tear them from our own limbs. 

What perfection have European nations attained, 
that should lead us to respect their institutions ? 
What falsehood do we discover in our own princi- 
ples, what frailty in our own organization, that bid 
us recoil from a thorough experiment ? We have a 
free religion, a free press, universal suffrage, and 
trial by Jury ; and with such assistance, if we cannot 
walk safely and find our o^mi ^^ ay, neither could we 



24 

though Adams and Jefferson should arise this day 
fVoiii the dead. 

Another obstacle to National Perfection is, a pre- 
dominant influence of the Politics of Europe, and 
particularly of England. 

There are no doubt good English \A-orks U})on 
political economy ; volumes of patriotic examples, 
and eloquent harangues against usurpation and abuse ; 
but their tone is too tame for our atmosphere. Their 
object is, to reform a present evil ; to prevent a sin- 
gle difficulty. They stop at a fixed line, and all 
beyond is chaos and obscurity. The conscience of 
a subject of that govcM-nnunit must be quieted, before 
he can take a broad and universal view of tln^. good 
of the whole human race. He must open the vol- 
umes of expediency ; he must call upon his imagina- 
tion to rally before him a host of angry consequences. 
He must balance the ])robability of success with the 
effect of deleal. This done, he strives, ably, inge- 
niously, triumj)hantly strives, to make the present 
e()ual to the pnst. He nuist pledge himself not to 
do too much good. He must not give the people 
more liberty than their education enables them to 
use with discretion, and must always provide that 
the people shall never determine how much that is. 
He must shudder at the imputation of " Radicalism'^'' 
and Reform. lie must make some allowance for 
Imman imjierfection. lie must take the world as it 
is, not as it ought to be. Finally, he must act upon 
the principle, " F/V// justitia mat ccelum,^^ provided 
nothing therein contained, shall be construed to af- 



25 

feet the prerogative of the king, the privilege of the 
nobility, the monopoly of elections, and the estab- 
lished church. 

But the young American is not to be deterred 
from wholesome innovation by the cry of Radicalism 
and Reform. No lurking treason insinuates itself, 
unbidden, into his heart. Guilt seizes not upon his 
imagination. He may promote any succession, un- 
ravel any usage, attack any principle of the constitu- 
tion, and, provided he can ameliorate, he finds a 
generous people ready to follow. 

The fathers of his country's liberty were stigma- 
tized as radicals. The signers of the declaration of 
Independence were contemned as innovators. And, 
instead of subverting the foundation of his country's 
glory, he feels, and knows that in all his aspirations 
for improvement, he is brushing away the decayed 
leaves and faded flowers, to hang fresh garlands 
upon the monument of his Washington. 

A child of old England, America lon^- felt for her 
a filial regard. One hundred and fifty years we 
were linked to her destiny. Through desolating 
wars, our arm was at her side. Our little treasury 
yielded her its annual harvest ; our commerce poured 
out millions at her feet; our soldiers were honored 
in her ranks; our seamen in her ships; and she, the 
mother country, was the standard of national perfec- 
tion. We believed, up to the declaration of Inde- 
pendence, that there was no other or greater liberty 
th.in the liberty of England ; and all we demanded 
1. 



26 

of her, until the sword was drawn, were the rights 
of Englishmen. 

The theoi) of her three estates was eapable of 
plausible defence, and had sincere admirers : her 
division of the executive, legislative, and judicial 
authorities, was esteemed the guarantee of lasting 
power, wisdom and justice ; her bill of rights seemed 
to include all the definitions of liberty ; her habeas 
corpus act was an impregnable shield against oppres- 
sion ; her jury trials were the triumphant vindica- 
tions of the innocent and free. 

Added to the real merits of these institutions, the 
force of habit and a continual experience of their 
utility, endeared them to every Englishman, whether 
of the East or West. It is not wonderful then, 
that many of them have escaped that scrutiny, which 
new projects would excite, and that the impetus of 
their former popularity should have carried them 
some distance in oiu- ascendant path. 

From an analogy to the English, we have invested 
our Executive with a princely patronage, as if the 
recipient of the free gift of the people stood in need 
of further popularity. 

In Massachusetts, we have adhered to their mode 
of representation. Principalities, Dukedoms, Coun- 
ties, Boroughs and Corporations give the right to 
vote ! The })eople are made for the towns, not the 
towns for the people ! Such were the principles, 
and they yet remain. For they told us but yester- 
day in the ])eople's hall, " Touch not the rights of 
th(>se venerable corporations, which they have enjoy- 



27 

cd since the foundation of the country," and with 
such words, the people, the living beings, the respon- 
sible souls, whose rights are coeval with the founda- 
tion of the world, whose interests are for eternity, 
they are to be postponed to this strange partiality 
for bodies politic ! 

From them, too, have we derived Im risonment 
for Debt. Trampling on the bill of rights, we have 
arrogated to ourselves a jurisdiction over the misfor- 
tunes of innocent men ; and without even the shadow 
of a law providing such punishment, have erected 
in each county our human menageries, and peopled 
them with victims, in multitudes that would disgrace 
the dungeons of Otho's noblemen. 

To that same source also, we may trace much of 
the personal asperity which vitiates our political dif- 
ferences, and which is alike the enemy of candor 
and truth, which compels us, from artificial consis- 
tency, to adhere to our errors, and enslaves the press 
to promote our ado})ted measures, whether right or 
^^rong. 

The influence of English Law u])on our country, 
is a yet greater obstacle. There is a sjnrit among 
the people, which, at times, forces its way through 
every political prejudice. But the barriers of the 
law intimidate the boldest assailant. One noxious 
effect of this is, that instead of attracting due 
odium from the peo})le, the Law has ever with a 
most })rofessional dexterity, shifted otT the burden 
of her rej)roach upon her unhappy disciples. 

\jC\ us recollect, in surveying the law of ourcoun- 



28 

try, liow long the world lay under the dominion of 
the syllogistic system. The method of learning kept 
all mankind in ignorance ; and the faint light of that 
pliilosophy was not quenched by opposition, but was 
outshone and eclii)sed by the superior radiance of 
reason. If we apply reason to our laws, they will 
soon become reasonable ; but if we indulge personal 
controversies upon a subject so abstract, the evil 
may be protracted and increased. 

The common law must soon come under the un- 
sparing hand of the reformer. Already it has re- 
ceived a deadly blow from the most unexpected 
rpiarter. One of her own courtiers, at her palace of 
Westminster Hall, has raised the ruffian steel against 
her, and she might with as much melancholy aj)ti- 
tude and classic pathos, as any hero of ancient or 
modern history, cast a dying look upon the lord 
chancellor and exclaim " Et tu Brute ! " 

Another, and ])erhaps the most serious obstacle 
to our progress towards National Perfection, is the 
influence of foreign literature and manners. Of late, 
even nobles have become authors. Byron's success 
made authorship quite tonnish, and a herd have fol- 
lowed in his patli. 

A fashionabh; novc^l has been found no despicable 
vehicle for the j)lausible doctrines of aristocracy. 
Fashion and folly have been ably portrayed as in- 
dications of a capacity for governing, and the imagi- 
nary phantom of intuitive genius elevating an idle 
rake to an equality with the man of industry, has 



29 

been brought forward with strong insinuations of 
reality. 

The nobility have had tlicir fancies for centu- 
ries, and the world has follo^^■ed them. But now 
mankind are thinking, studying and inquiring. It 
is the age of intellect, and intellect will be the cri- 
terion of success and superiority. Here then is an 
interesting struggle. The great object of the higher 
orders, so called, is to circulate the belief that no 
industry or exertion can ever enable one of, what 
they call, the lower orders to ascend from his in- 
feriority to an equality with themselves. 

They do not pretend to define the great insur- 
mountable characteristic ; but they allude to its close 
alliance with intellectual superiorit}'. They assert 
that there is a certain exquisite apprehension, pos- 
sessed by themselves, essential to perfection in any 
design ; and which, though imperceptible by the 
vulgar, always touches a responsive chord in one of 
their exalted degree. This undelinable trait is a 
portion of their nature, and pervades their persons, 
actions, manners and productions. 

Endued with this magic power, they command, at 
once, all the keys of knowledge and m isdom. AVhat 
the mechanic is taught by intense application at a 
profound lecture, they inhale with their champaigne, 
perhaps at a fancy ball. At their stylish repasts 
they imbibe Newtonian principles, which would cost 
the mathematician months of painful calculation. 
They dictate immortal pamphlets, while under the 
hands of their valet. Hit upon ex})edients to re- 



30 

lieve the nation from its per])loxin2; dilemmas while 
on their way to the watchhoiise ; and awaken slum- 
bering Europe to her imminent perils by a crack of 
their tandem whip. 

Europeans who ought to know, have justly ex- 
claimed, that it was marvellous with how little 
wisdom the world is governed. And what need of 
pains-taking politicians, and experienced financiers, 
if a race of gifted bloods can prescribe the law of 
nations, extempore, and can eviscerate, at a thought, 
the intricacies of coin, currency and the public 
funds. Why should we sunnnon from their blest 
abodes, the shades of Sidney and of Junius, if Regent 
vStreet can usher from her Athenian club-rooms, the 
master-spirits of Pelham and Paul Clifford. 

This combination between i'ashion and literature, 
to aid in maintaining the divisions of society, may 
have a pernicious effect even upon our own coun- 
trv, unless at once subjected to the ordeal of public 
scrutiny. 

The charm of literature has rescued from disgust 
and oblivion ages of extreme depravity, and to 
this, ratlier than to any taste, its eager adoption by 
the higher orders is due. 

But however ca])tivatin2; foreign high-life, how- 
ever richly emblazon(>d with literature, the Ameri- 
can, in searching there for his models, will commit 
tin; most grievous error. The character of the 
higlnn- orders, if we may believe their own wit- 
nesses, is not only utterly lu^artless and immoral, 
but is entirelv inconiiruous with the mode and tone 



31 

of our society. Rank is their deity. The first 
circle is the highest heaven; and tliat once pos- 
sessed, the coldest crimes, the most appalling guilt 
are softened into pardonable extravagance, or smiled 
upon as engaging traits. 

Nothing has ever blackened the human heart 
and seared the conscience more irretrievably than 
the manners of European high-life. Their errors, 
follies and violences have signalized other ages ; 
this, they have blighted with the mildew of cold, 
contemptuous selfishness. Their wealth and privi- 
leges must be supported, if the laws are warp- 
ed. Their luxury must be pampered, if the country 
mourns ; they succeed if by subtlety ; they triumph 
if by treachery ; adroit in policy, cunning in ambition, 
they maintain their own preeminence, and sooner 
than relinquish the extortions of their birthright, they 
\\ ould sprinkle their palace floors wdth the blood of 
the provinces, and wash them with the tears of their 
own poor. 

It becomes us to frown down all similarity to them. 
If we are rich and seek a European example, the 
star of Lafayette still sparkles in the east. If we are 
poor, our own Franklin has left us an example. He 
showed, that while cooped up within the humblest 
sphere, and bound to unceasing occupations, the 
human soul can ranire unfettered throujih the uni- 
verse, can soar beyond the young eagle's play-ground, 
and follow in a path which the vulture's eye hath 
not seen. 

We aim at National Perfection. Other people 



32 

may excel their ancestors, we aspire to anticipate and 
outvie posterity. With us is the choice, either by 
adhering to European maxims and institutions, un- 
der a vague and groundless estimation of their secu- 
rity, to make our history merely a modified repeti- 
tion of time-honored abuse, or by following nature, 
reason and justice, to raise our whole population 
to an undreamt elevation of dignity and happiness. 
It is in vain for us to seek for security elsewhere 
than at home. 

No form of government, no checks and balances, 
no predominant interest, no custom or institution, 
no fundamental principles of policy, can alone main- 
tain that security. The great object for us to pur- 
sue is justice. Perfect justice, as individuals, as 
bodies politic and as a nation. We have power 
enough, — liberty enougli, — though idle. Stimulate 
them to exertion, attain justice, then wisdom, virtue 
and happiness must succeed, — then shall we have 
National Perfection. 

For this attainment we need not follow in anv 
beaten track. In adhering to our old English preju- 
dices, in rallying round European institutions, we 
chain ourselves to the beacon, which we should ap- 
proach only to avoid. Justice will be a new attain- 
ment, and must be sought in a new path. A path 
to be discov(n-ed by retracing many steps, and to be 
preserved by the guides of religion and morality. 

Do I seem to recommend violence ? Far from it. 
Where supreme power is possessed, violence is super- 
fluous. Violence has too long checkered the earth with 



33 

lier litliil and rraitlcss tumults. l]ut 1 do lecommeud 
determination. I do applaud a spirit of fearless and 
indiscriminate reform. I do place reliance upon the 
high principles of our country, and feel but little 
confidence in ancient forms. I would lay waste 
with the sword of reason, tempered in our own 
consciences ; I would burn with the conflagration oi" 
public opinion, kindled in our hearts ; I would rivet 
with the fetters of irresistible conviction, self-imposed 
i)y a voluntary surrender of our prejudices. 

But I would seek no examples IVom barbarous 
customs, from abusive institutions, from corrupt 
policy, from heartless laws, from luxurious literature, 
or from profligate society. 

If we seek examples for our country and for our- 
selves, let us resort to the new-created West. There 
I he fountains are imcorrupted. There civilization 
meets nature unimpaired. There we can behold how 
the young armed American grapples with tlie wilder- 
ness, and thence we can return and imagine how our 
fathers lived. Europe presents much to our view, 
but America still more. There, liberty, like the 
buried giant, struggles beneath the trembling moun- 
tains. There, from aroused nations, swells a new 
nnu-mur, like the '■^sad genms of the coming storm.'''' 
There, Scythia frowns again upon the devoted South, 
and the shade of Kosciusko walks with the noon-day 
pestilence amid their affright(;d hosts. 

We need not G\\\y tin; young Poles or the young 
Parisians the harvest oi" honor and glory, which they 
5 



34 



have reaped, and arc lunv reaping. Tliere is work 
cnouoh for us at home. 

Wo can do much for Euro])e hy doing more for 
ourselves. \\v must perieet our sjstem, and show 
what liherty is worth : we must convince the rich 
and the poor that it is the fountain of justice, the 
source of prosperity, the safeguard of tlie citizen, 
and th(! foundation of national perfection. We nnist 
prove that it is incompatible with immorality and 
irreligion. We must signalize under liberty our 
respect for the pLd)lic morals. We nuist purge our 
high places from the stains of })rofligacy, guard 
against the ineptitude of our own favorites, and 
consign to contempt and obscurity the intriguing 
sycophants, ^^ ho dare to practise their Machiavelian 
deception upon an ingenuous j)eople. 

Do this, and the cause of liberty ^^i!l he sure. 
Do this, and then, indeed, we may exult. Do this, 
and WT shall establish our own emancipation, and 
stand ready to spread it over all the earth. 

Do we suppose that we can shed our liberty u])on 
other countries witliout exertion; and let it fall 
upon them lik(^ tlie dew^ which stirs not the leaf? 
No. Liberty nnist be long held suspended over 
them in the atmosphere by our unseen and un- 
wearied po\^ er. The more intense the heat which 
oppresses them, tlie more nuist it saturate and sur- 
charge the ;iir; till at Inst, ^\hen t\w. ground is 
parched dry, when vegetation is cris])ed up, and the 
gasping people arc; ready to })lunge into destruction 
for relief, then will it call forth its hosts from everv 



35 

•juarter of the hori/on ; then will the sky be over- 
oast, the landscape darkened, and Liberty, at one 
peal, with one flash, will pour down her million 
streams ; then will she lift up the voice, which 
echoed, in days of yore, from the Peaks of Otter to 
the Grand Monadnock ; then will 

"Jura answer throngli her misty cloud, 



Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud." 

We are asked upon what is our reliance, in times 
of excitement ; what checks have we upon popular 
violence ; what compensation for human infirmities ; 
what substitutes for bayonets, dragoons, and an aris- 
tocracy ? I answer, the Religion and Morality of 
the people. Not the Religion of the State. Not 
the Morality of the fashionable*. Thank heaven, our 
house is of no such Philisthu; architecture! Our 
trust, our only trust, is where it ought to be, — th(^ 
religion and morality of the whole people. Upon 
that depends, and ought to depend, all that we en- 
Joy or hop(\ Our strength is in length, in breadth, 
and in depth. It is in us, and must be felt and ex- 
ercised by each one and all of us, or our downfall is 
doomed. For W(; are the j)eople ; we are our gov- 
ernors ; we are the Lord's anointed ; we are the 
powers that be, and we bear not tlie sword in vain. 
And upon us is the responsibility ; humble and ob- 
scure, domestic and retiring, secludcxl and solitary we 
may be, but ours is still the great national trust, go 
Tvh(M'e we will, and to Cod are we one and all ac- 



^.^;, 



'i:^ 



countable. Our responsibility is with us \ it weighs 
upon us ; it follows us ; it overhangs us like the 
dome of this house ; its universal pressure is the great 
principle of our protection. If the just rules of re- 
ligion and morality pervade through all its parts, the 
prodigious weight is gracefully sustained ; but if vice 
and corruption creep in its divided circles, the en- 
feebled fabric will yawn in dread chasms, and 
crumbling, will overwhelm us with unutterable ruin. 



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